


the morning after the night before

by faithtastic



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: But Mostly Smut, Clexa, Coitus Interruptus, F/F, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 10:32:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6113782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithtastic/pseuds/faithtastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off that 0.5 second E4 promo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the morning after the night before

**Author's Note:**

> For [starwarsrosie](http://starwarsrosie.tumblr.com/)

Daylight spills through the closed drapes, bathing the room in a warm glow. Lexa has been awake for hours, or so it seems; sleep is often elusive but she can’t bear to look away from Clarke, lightly snoring and tucked against her side. In the back of her mind there's a voice (one that sounds irritatingly much like Titus) that scolds her about duty and responsibility and _love is weakness_ but in this instant she wants nothing more than to reject those notions.

A faint breeze stirs the drapes, causing the clusters of still-lit candles scattered around the room to flicker. Clarke shifts beside her, burrowing closer to Lexa’s shoulder and it brings an unbidden smile to Lexa's lips. Clarke looks so peaceful in slumber, sleep providing a brief respite from the burdens that weigh upon her, that Lexa can’t bring herself to wake her.

For a while Lexa is content to let her gaze roam the contours of Clarke’s face in the morning light, taking in every tiny detail and committing it to memory: the shallow dimple of her chin, the beauty mark above her lip, thick lashes fanning out across her cheeks, the messy splay of braided blonde hair against the pillow. Even the healing cut above her eye does nothing to detract from Clarke's beauty. The affection that surges through Lexa doesn’t feel like weakness at all; it's warmth and light suffusing her bones, filling the jagged spaces between her ribs, making a ballast for her sunken heart.

Without conscious intent she finds herself reaching across, fingertips skimming over Clarke’s cheek. The movement is enough to rouse Clarke but any regret Lexa feels is quickly banished. Blue eyes blink drowsily back at her and Lexa is relieved to see no hint of distress or discomfort in Clarke’s expression.

“Good morning, Clarke,” Lexa says softly, keeping her voice low for fear of breaking this fragile calm that exists between them.

“ _Sonop, Leksa_ ,” the blonde replies, equally as quietly. But, oh, Clarke’s voice roughened from sleep is something Lexa is wholly unprepared for. It makes arousal stir, reminds her sharply of the stickiness that remains on her inner thighs.

They watch each other intently, neither willing to be the first to look away. Lexa’s hand lingers, resting lightly on Clarke’s jaw. She is aware of every place they are touching under the furs: Clarke’s bare hip pressing into her own, the curve of a breast just barely brushing against her arm, the warmth of their legs pressed together.

Clarke’s eyes grow darker. The hunger in her gaze makes Lexa shiver and shift onto her side to mask the strength of her physical response. After a moment she feels the slide of Clarke’s hands over her hips, fingers curving firmly around the jut of bone.

“ _Sonop_ ,” Lexa murmurs uselessly. She's at a loss for anything else to say. Her lips pull into what must surely be an idiotic grin.

“Good morning,” Clarke says with a lift of her eyebrows, biting her lip to contain her own nascent smile.

A hand to Lexa’s shoulder pushes her back against the mattress and Clarke flows with her, throwing one leg across Lexa’s body to straddle her. The air leaves Lexa’s lungs like a punch to the gut because, _jok_ , Clarke is slick and so very hot against the flat of her stomach.

A curtain of blonde hair spills forward over Clarke’s shoulder, obscuring the side of her face, the ends tickling Lexa’s chest. Lexa lifts one hand, hooking the hair behind Clarke’s ear, and then they’re both moving. They meet halfway, mouths slanting and opening. Clarke's tongue dips inside, just enough to lick at the ridge behind Lexa's teeth.

Lexa is aware of the restless shift of Clarke’s hips, the scrape of damp, wiry hair against her skin and she moans at the sensation, the noise catching in the back of her throat. Clarke kisses harder. For minutes they tangle, retreat, an ardent push and pull that leaves Lexa’s chest burning, heaving for air when they finally separate. She stares up at Clarke, taking in the mussed strands of golden hair, the wanton look in half-lidded eyes, a kiss-bruised bottom lip snared between white teeth. She wants to sear this image into her memory.

Lexa licks her lips, greedily absorbing every inch of the woman in front of her. Before long she reaches out, her palms mapping the same trail as her eyes, moving over curvaceous hips, the lean slope of Clarke’s stomach, gliding up her ribcage to grasp one full breast in each hand. Clarke arches, pushing into Lexa’s palms, lips parting on a husky sigh that makes wetness pool heavily between Lexa’s thighs.

Her hands continue upwards, smoothing over Clarke’s sternum, the lines of her collarbones, rounding pale shoulders. She latches on, tugging Clarke down gently. She loves this feeling, the weight of Clarke’s breasts against her own. They kiss deeply, thoroughly, as if they can’t get enough of the taste of each other.

“ _Meizen_ ,” Lexa says lowly, full of reverence. She runs her hands down Clarke’s back, carefully mapping the tiny scars that have punctuated her short time on the ground, continuing down over the rise of Clarke’s bottom to grip her ass, pulling Clarke taut against her. The tiny whimper Clarke lets out gets lost in their kiss.

Before long Clarke begins to cant her hips, breath hitching with each rotation, every drag of the hardening bud of her clit. Lexa feels Clarke quicken, the rocking of her hips becoming more erratic. She rolls them over and Clarke’s whine of complaint breaks off abruptly when Lexa pushes two fingers into her. Clarke grinds shamelessly against the heel of Lexa’s hand, a string of gasps accompanying the obscenely wet noises that fill the room. The pitch of her moans go up a notch when Lexa slides a thumb over her clit, rubbing in circular motions, and soon muscles begin to quake and squeeze around Lexa’s fingers. Clarke arches, spine rigid, mouth falling open to let out a throaty noise that makes Lexa gush in sympathy.

Reaching for her cheeks with both hands Clarke draws Lexa into an open-mouthed kiss. It’s heated, messy, _everything_. Lexa’s fingers remain between Clarke’s legs, sifting through soaked curls as they kiss, now and then tracing the shape of labia, savouring the huff of Clarke’s breath every time she strays to close to touching her clit.

“You’re teasing me,” Clarke says while changing the angle of the kiss, her nose grazing Lexa’s. This kiss Lexa feels down to her toes, nerves firing along the length of her body.

She smiles into it. “Do you want me to stop, Clarke?"

The quick, huffed “no” she receives almost makes her laugh.

Lexa kisses her way down Clarke’s body, the hard tips of pink nipples beckoning her. She spends an inordinate amount of time licking and sucking and nibbling until Clarke is squirming beneath her and rolling her hips anew. Lexa descends further, planting kisses down the soft skin of Clarke’s torso, the ticklish spots at her waist, over wide hips to her pubis where the coarse hair begins. She leans in, dragging the flat of her tongue along the length of Clarke’s slit, once, twice, a third time. The fourth time she pushes inside, pressing as deep as possible before withdrawing. She keeps going, fucking Clarke with her tongue. She is diligent, mapping every fold and crease of skin, using every trick at her disposal from broad, flat strokes to precise swirls and unerring flicks. With every movement her nose bumps against Clarke’s clit.

She hears Clarke’s gasps, feels the strain in her body as Clarke struggles against the reflex to clamp her thighs around Lexa’s head. There are hands tangled in Lexa’s braids, variously tugging, flexing and scraping against her scalp; hips circling; breathy encouragements in Trigedasleng and English that make Lexa’s ears burn and her heart soar. The climax comes hard and fast; all too quickly she hears Clarke cry out, feels the sudden jerk of her hips, the way her body stills for just a second before the warm gush of her release spills into Lexa’s mouth and over her chin. But Lexa doesn’t relent, lapping up every drop until she brings Clarke to another smaller echo of an orgasm.

By now their bodies are slicked with sweat, almost unbearably hot where their skin is touching but Lexa wants more, always more. She feels feverish, stoked by touching Clarke and the musky-sweet scent of sex that hangs in the air. She crawls up the bed to hover over Clarke, noting irises eclipsed by blown pupils. They kiss, Clarke groaning when she tastes herself on Lexa’s tongue. Hands settle on the backs of Lexa’s thighs and give a meaningful tug. Lexa draws back, eyebrows dipped in confusion.

Clarke scoots down the bed a little then tugs again. It takes a second for Lexa to comprehend. When she does, she swallows and gives the slightest of nods.

Lexa has one knee planted on either side of Clarke’s shoulders when she hears the knock on the door. She jerks backward at the sound, eyes casting around the room for her discarded nightgown. “Wait outside,” she calls out tersely. Her retinue of guards know better than to let anyone barge in without permission but all the same she is slightly panicked by the interruption.

She takes a breath and meets Clarke’s eyes regretfully before slipping from the bed.

The blonde digs a hand through her hair, looking almost as frustrated as Lexa feels. “Can’t you send them away?"

Lexa firms her jaw. She could so easily surrender to Clarke’s wishes but that nagging voice tells her she’s already indulged too much. She stoops to retrieve the nightgown beside the settee. The material is torn in places, a result of Clarke’s impatience last night. She isn’t even annoyed, she’s impressed. “Much as I would like to, I can’t do that. The needs of my people outweigh my own."

She disappears into the closet to fetch a dressing gown and when she reemerges Clarke is propped up on her elbows.

“Well, _I’m_ your people now and I need you.”

The force of Clarke’s frown is testing Lexa’s resolve. That, and the way her uncovered breasts are so proudly on display. With such distractions it’s difficult to argue with Clarke's logic. There’s also the fact that she’s unsure what will happen once they leave the sanctity of this bedroom. Last night and this morning might be all they have and Lexa is desperate to prolong their time together.

She busies herself with tying the robe's belt around her waist. “Maybe we could continue later.” She aims for an air of nonchalance, as if Clarke’s refusal wouldn’t crush her.

“Come here.” It’s a command that Lexa follows without question. Clarke gestures for her to sit. When Lexa sinks down onto the furs Clarke reaches for her hand, holding it between both of her own. A thumb traces absently over the fading scar on Lexa's palm. Blue eyes pin her in place as surely as any physical force. “I told you I was ready. That hasn’t changed overnight. I still want to try this - us."

A sense of relief drains through Lexa but she only acknowledges Clarke’s words with a solemn nod. What she truly wants to say is too vast, too risky, and much too soon. Instead she allows herself a small smile.

“And while you’re off doing _Heda_ things I want you to think about me alone, bored, in your bed, waiting for you."

The unnecessary cruelty of that suggestion staggers Lexa. She presses her lips together and stands. “I’ll be back in one hour."

The smile that Clarke unleashes then is unlike anything Lexa has ever seen. It leaves her breathless. She resolves then that whatever matter requires her immediate attention will be dealt with swiftly or she might have to kick another person off the tower.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on tumblr: [femininenachos](https://femininenachos.tumblr.com/)


End file.
